—CANCELLED— Project Omega
by Ace-Sin-of-Wrath
Summary: Enter a dark and mysterious world veiled by the facade of shelter for three young, but bright minds. Follow the adventures of the three nominees for the prestigious Project Omega. Unexpected hurdles remain on the way, seeking their conquerors in the form of the three teens that grow throughout this experience.
1. Chapter 0: Prologue

**Project Ωmega**

 _ **How will the world receive the new changes to the power balance? Morals are twisted by what is possibly the most influential body in the world, and the struggle for power between various organisations ensues. Kanto is the ground of Adventure for young Project Omega candidates, but it is also the battleground of Agendas!**_

 _ **Follow the story of three young souls in your favourite fictional World of Pokémon! Accompany Amy Dalton, Calix Foster, and Vincent Lansdell on a fantastic ride through the mysterious world inhabited by intelligent creatures that live alongside humans. Share the thrill of the adventure, the tension of the conflicts, exhilaration of catching 'em all, as three teens go through Project Omega, to test their limits and break them.**_

* * *

 _ **Prologue: 15 years ago**_

"...Hence, the prosecution rests its case, your honour."

The courtroom air seemed tense, building a swift climax on the ominous foundations set by an exceedingly strong case, one sided in many regards. Chatters erupted across the room, as the defendant stood expressionless in the face of a sentence. Brown hair and onyx grey eyes of cold steel, the tall man didn't say a word in defence of his trial. He looked the blonde prosecutor in the eye, only to get a cold, stoic stare in return. There was no place for him anymore. No future. It was all over, and ideally, he should have been a crying mess of a man watching his future crumble under the resonating thump of the Judge's gavel.

"In light of all the presented facts and evidence, and the lack of an answer from the defense, this court finds the defendant, Spencer John Evans, guilty. He shall now be sentenced to a lifelong imprisonment."

The Judge's verdict was sound. His gavel silenced the outburst of the crowd rather swiftly, as the defense attorney, a black haired, mild mannered man, hung his head in shame. This was a grade A flattening he had received at the hands of the esteemed prosecutor Gareth Dalton. It was never a fight to begin with, and the defense attorney's newbie impulsive decision to defend a man like Spencer had delivered its consequences. He couldn't face his client. Not like this. But then again, what could he do?

"This court is now adjourned."

The people began to rise, leaving with rather mixed emotions, some on display, while others' covert to the point where their faces could pass for masks on a carnival sale. The weeping of a certain brown haired woman, who couldn't have been past her mid-twenties, radiated through the empty courtroom, with a slightly taller, older man as her only form of support. She didn't leave the stands, and didn't even watch the now guilty defendant being escorted out. Her tears flowed freely, without inhibition, and her howls of agony were that of someone who had lost a part of themselves. Justice was cruel, harsh and impartial, and this day stood as a testament to that.

Adjusting his glasses, the powerful looking man trudged down the courthouse corridors, his sharp features outlined well. His blonde hair was combed back neatly, and his piercing amber gaze scrutinised anything that moved. The confidence and grace in the stride of this man was compounded further by his formal attire: perfect for a prosecuting attorney of his stature. The rose on the breast pocket of his beige coat only succeeded in highlighting his presence, as did his beige trousers, along with his white undershirt, formal as they came, with its grey striped red tie, tucked neatly into the buttoned coat with the knot visible. The unnerving stare of the Rhydon statues lining the corridor were squash balls launched at the walking wall; he took his wallet out to brandish his ID card. People naturally moved out of the lamp post of a man's way, his brown shoes seeming to create soft thumps as they hit the maple wood floor with each step. Before him, at the end of the corridor, was a card key operated door, one which he needed his card for. The credentials on the card spelled out clearly: _Gareth Ebony Dalton_.

" _Access granted."_ It was the door's auditory intercom, confirming the swipe, which was as elegant as his stride, if not more so. It was a single movement in which the prosecutor had deftly deposited his card back into his wallet, and followed that with an artful movement of depositing said wallet in his right pant pocket. He reflected on the events before the trial from earlier, something which happened in the defendant's lobby, as the door slid open to reveal a rather large room. His mind wandered to his conversation in the defendant's lobby. With the defendant. Spencer's words rang loud and clear in his mind as he stepped into the marble floored room that was the warp zone.

"Listen, Gar," The words continued ringing.

"Amy. You need to take care of her, no matter what. Just… look, I know I've been a terrible friend, a terrible person, but for her sake, please, just do what you have to. Amy can't live with Cass anymore! Not after they found out who I am-"

A friend. That wasn't something he was called often. The word itself was almost foreign at this point in his life. He mulled the last wishes of the defendant over as he entered the warp drive chamber. The Silph Company logo shone bright as it did all over Kanto.

The Warp drive system had been a new development nearly a decade ago, allowing easy travel between points A and B. As of this point in time, it was limited to certain Pokémon Centres, and the upper executive echelons, mostly due to Kanto lacking the infrastructure a place like Unova had in abundance.

He had the coordinates set to Celadon City Courthouse, and proceeded to hit the drive button. His gaze was vacant, as thoughts on his current situation raced through his mind scape. He closed his eyes and continued to think, allowing the warp drive to initiate the digitisation process. It always felt slightly weird, but he was used to it. After all, it was better than walking or flying, especially with his Acrophobia.

The warp drive had run its course, and it was within instants that the proud prosecutor had opened his eyes once more. He stood in a room identical to the one in Fuchsia City, but the air told him he wasn't there anymore. He made his way towards the exit, passing through the sliding door with ease thanks to his clearance level. Upon exiting the courthouse, which wasn't much different from the Fuchsia City courthouse, Gareth breathed in the fresh Celadon air. It was clean, and nostalgic to a certain degree, invoking memories he didn't need invoked at the time. The man decided to allow his companion sometime in the open, frolicking perhaps. He reached for one of four small spheres pinned to his belt under the blazer, and plucked the Pokéball off its magnetic holder, before pressing the centre of the red-topped white sphere in to enlarge it to hand size. He allowed the locking mechanism to unleash the beast within, its mane majestic as ever, and its eyes glinting with excitement. The black stripes on its orange body seemed to materialise last from the red flash of light the Pokéball emitted. The Arcanine huffed with excitement, happy to see the outdoors. It was a rarity indeed. The grassy fields that covered Celadon, which seemed to captivate most, even though paths were available too. Even a fire type like Arcanine would seek its happiness here. The loyal Legendary Pokémon smiled and barked a few happy cries before running off. Gareth simply stood there for moments, before striding off on his own. He was happy to see his partner happy, but he wasn't all that happy about doing what he was about to do.

His stride led him to the front of a standalone house on its own plot of land. At the entrance, the sign read clearly: _Evans Residence_. He swiped a card, provided by Spencer himself, to bypass the gate security and easily open the door to the mansionette. The wails of a baby were pronounced, clear as crystal. He didn't bother removing his shoes at the door as he usually would, but simply made his way to the source of the cries, past the living room, and into the master bedroom. In the cradle next to the king sized bed, was a wailing child. Gareth watched it for moments, before looking to the ceiling. Looking to Arceus. He never believed in such a thing, but he thought he would give it a shot for once.

Nothing. No response.

With a sigh, the tall lawyer bent over to lift the baby out of its cradle, surprisingly gentle with the grip, and careful to wrap the infant up in its blanket.

"UNCAH! UNCAH!" Cried the infant. Gareth simply sighed, and walked towards the door. This was for the best, after all.

 _ **End of Prologue**_


	2. Chapter 1: The αlpha, and the Ωmega!

_**Chapter 1: The alpha, and the Ωmega!**_

 **¶|• Aɱy**

" _-And that ends the coverage of our exclusive with current reigning champion, Lance! We hope his wisdom has been displayed for all to see! As things stand now, this year's crop for the Pokémon League looks promising indeed, so stay tuned for further coverage on the Contest end of things, as further updates on the Grand Festival status are coming up ne-"_

In a sudden flash of static, the television went out, and Amy frowned at the now black screen, slipping a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear, and focusing her dark, now narrow eyes towards the door.

"I'd say that's quite enough, Amy…" At the door, stood the imposing figure every human being rightfully folded to, her motherly aura shining through the apron she wore over her red half-sleeve top and pleated jeans. It was clear that she had plans to go out after the morning schedule. The woman walked in, shoving the curtains open to allow the morning sunshine to grace the rather dim room with its radiance. Her stark blue eyes glared right back at the young television viewer.

Amy groaned in response. "Mom- Why'd you do that?"

She was going to complain some more, but was cut off by the glare she was met with. It was a stern reminder that mom was the boss.

"If you keep drowning yourself in that idiot box, we're going to have a very real problem!" Her pointer finger pierced the air, motioning Amy's eyes towards the wall clock, digital for ease of reading, on the 24-hour system too. _08:04._ The teen's eyes widened, as the blanket around her promptly flew off, landing easily off of her person.

"Don't you have an important meet-up today?"

Amy was panicking now. She had yet to change, and things looked bad as it was. _The agreement was to meet at half past eight- crapcrapcrap-_

"Right- Sorry- I mean, thanks!"

She was quick on her feet, leaping out of the bed with a spin of legs, before making it a point to show her mother to the Door, because she needed change out of her night wear. A short grey tank top and a pair of baggy brown shorts were in no way fit for a meet-up as important as this.

The room door shutting meant the timer had begun. She flung the wardrobe open and frantically began digging through the myriad of clothes she had to choose from; she would usually take her time and frolic through her selection, but circumstances didn't allow that now, did they? She saw her mother's insistence on making her do the packing the previous night as a blessing, because today was too special to bother with that kind of thing. The addressing card she had knocked to the ground in her hasty rising said it all:

 **Project Ωmega**

 _A program for gifted children, Project Omega wishes to allow children that excel in their school work to truly shine on the field. Three candidates in each region are selected based on academic performance, and given a Pokédex by the Pokémon Professor of their region. They are to travel across said region while filling the missing data out._

 _This is an effort to catalogue the migratory shifts of Pokémon from other regions, something we have yet to fully understand the patterns of. If you receive this card, you have the honour of contributing to Project Omega._

 **Yours sincerely,**  
 **Samuel J. Oak**

After a quick change into her travelling outfit consisting of a white sleeveless top, and skin-tight blue jeans, along with a belt for her Pokéballs and a pinkish maroon sling bag hanging across her torso from the left shoulder, she proceeded to comb her hair. She didn't bother tying it up in any sort of ponytail, because she preferred it free. Overall, a light outfit which made movement easy. She took a look at the wall clock once more. _08:14._ There was not much time before the meetup, the location of which was supposed to be written on the card. She scrambled to her knees, frantically searching for the card addressed to her, finding it underneath a tuft of her blanket off the bed, resting on the smooth wooden floor. The size of her room was just about enough for a single person, so finding things could be easy or difficult depending on the circumstances and object in question.

Even bare feet made a soft thump when someone descended the flight of stairs leading to the bedrooms upstairs. The fresh teen made her way into the living room on the ground floor, greeted by the wafting scent of breakfast. Bacon and Eggs. Was it the healthiest? No. Did Amy absolutely adore it? Yes, she did.

"Someone's finally up… I've prepared a packed breakfast. Eat once you meet them." The feminine voice called from the kitchen, seemingly preoccupied from the lack of its crisp focus that it usually had.

"Thanks mom ~" The peppy teen was quick to reply, just feeling the lack of one thing, as she swiped the breakfast packing off the table, and deposited it neatly in her bag, which was quite empty as things stood. A few potions, along with basic food supplies and a compact sleeping bag she could use for camping out. Matchsticks and a machete for the journey.

Why the potions? Because today was a very special day. Having attended the extended curriculum for the gifted, Amy stayed in Pokémon School for four years more than the average student. In exchange, she got to raise her own Pokémon at home for two years, and procured a diploma certification along with a distinction pass due to diligence and work ethic. She turned fifteen a few weeks back, and today was the day she received her very first Pokémon. Her family had been supportive of this; her mother had been, anyway, because she was being hired by the esteemed Pokémon Professor himself: Samuel Oak. It was a sort of internship, an opportunity to work alongside the brightest minds in the world while collecting data on Pokémon. Every five years, three exceptional students were selected to go through with Project Ωmega.

"Honey, before you go!" Her mother had called from the kitchen entrance once more, stopping the teen in her tracks. Amy turned to meet the eyes of her mother; she couldn't get a read on them at all. She had known her mom all her life, and she knew that her love was genuine, but not expressive. Gestures like hugs and goodbye tears just made for an awkward mix with a woman of Carla Dalton's nature.

"Your father told me to wish you luck for him!"

The mention of her father seemed to sour her mood a bit, not because she had any issues with the person in question, but because she felt so distant. So left out of the loop when it came to him. He was never home. Ever. Always at work, at a case, travelling across Kanto to get a verdict on his trials.

"Right… Okay."

There was no denying that she admired him for how respected he was, and how well he presented and handled himself, something she considered goals for her own persona yet to develop, but she couldn't help but feel mild animosity towards the man.

He was never around. She wanted to spend time with him, get to know him, but the amount of times he had even come home for her birthdays could be counted on a single hand. _And I'm fifteen now…_

Even then, the total amount of times they had any proper interaction, was zero. Her tone shift fell on preoccupied ears which had other things on their mind. Amy shrugged with a sigh before bolting for the door. She couldn't afford to be late today. That'd ruin the first impression.

"Ember, are you ready?" The teen cheerfully beckoned the household Pokémon closest to her, out from the backyard. The neigh received by Amy in response was a positively cheerful one, as a majestic Ponyta clopped its hooves on the soft grass, creating the sound of flattened dirt. The flaming pony grunted, with its saddle already on. In one fell swoop, Amy was up and on the back of her partner Pokémon. She'd practically grown up with Ember, her most beloved Pokémon.

"Alright, up and at 'em!" She liked to pretend she was some kind of film heroine when she rode the Ponyta, and the flaming horse played along by rearing back before galloping away into the pathways. _Who even needs bikes?_

With that happy thought, she resolved to make it on time.

She got the smiles of the general Pallet Town populace as she raced across the pathways on her steed. Pallet's population was mostly old people who used the path about as much as the Unovans planted in farms, so it wasn't much of an issue. Plus, the paths were wide, and the buildings were rustic by nature, age old architecture consisting of red bricks and lots of pillars. It was a town on the Kanto outskirts alright, that was plainly visible. The hilly terrain made it perfect for galloping across the landscape, too, as it was easy on the hooves.

 **¶|• Viɳcɛɳt**

"Reaper, give it a Slash attack!"

The Scyther moved deftly and nimbly through the air, at the command of its trainer with no hesitation. Its only targets were the wooden planks, held up by ropes hanging off the ceiling of the training room. In a matter of a few seconds, the logs fell from their perch like minced vegetables collapsing from a poorly tied knot. The response the bladed mantis Pokémon got was simple silence from its trainer: A lean, prim figure of elite demeanour, his black hair maintained with the highest quality hairspray, and his sea green eyes reminiscing the gaze of an ocean planning a full scale assault on an island, focused and intense.

His features were as defined as his clothing, a black semi-formal, half-sleeve shirt which looked pressed to the last bit of fabric, along with pleated trousers that matched his hair and shirt. His eyelashes batted each other indifferently with each blink, timed to precision, and his expression looked like he smiled exclusively when the stars aligned. He was indifferent towards his privilege, or the fact that this training room itself could compensate for a residential plot. The tranquillity emulated that found in the actual prairies, with a single tree holding up the planks on its mighty branch. The nearby pond reflected the ceiling lighting in a glistening blue glow.

Vincent Lansdell was the third and youngest son of Gatsby Lansdell, the latter was more commonly referred to as the CEO of Silph Co. As of such, everything he did was to be expected. If he never got special recognition, neither did his Pokémon. Him and his Scyther had that kind of unanimous agreement.

It was at that moment that he heard the knocks on the door.

"Come in!" The young fifteen-year-old turned to face the man at the door, a tall, bald figure with a black tailcoat and trousers, and a white undershirt. Harold Fourstar: The Lansdell household Butler, stood with a bag on his left shoulder, and a tray held by both hands. He had brought with him, a teacup, along with a pot filled presumably with tea.

"A very good morning, sir. I've brought everything you have requested."

"Thank you, Harold." The teenager relieved his butler of the bag on his shoulder. It was a backpack with a flap over its top, covering two compact pockets as fronts. The buckle on the flap was of solid gold, a symbol of his vast resource trove.

"And what of the shoes?"

"They are prepared and waiting at the doorstep, sir. You need only to slip your feet in. The socks have been integrated into them."

Vincent nodded, making a stride past his butler, out of his training room, and into the main corridor of the mansion he lived in. It made most average houses look like Rattata to a Salamence.

The Scyther leapt through the door, and walked alongside its trainer like a trained, loyal companion. Vincent saw the house exit towards the end of the corridor, and sure enough, a pair of shiny new, red and black themed shoes awaited him.

The young trainer slipped his feet into the shoes, and as stated by Harold, the fabric seemed to form around his legs: Makeshift socks. Nanotech panelling illustrated that the technology was first rate, sophisticated and cutting edge. Vincent was satisfied.

He reached into his breast pocket, unveiling the card given to him by post. Project Omega, the program he was to be a part of at this stage in his life. Being the academic prodigy that he was, Vincent wasn't surprise that he qualified rather easily. His interactions with his family did, however, bug him to no end. He read the card over once more, all the while reminiscing the evening before. It was at the dining table, during dinner.

"Father, I received a qualification notice. It's… for Project Omega."

Articulating each syllable with clarity, Vincent lifted his gaze from the grilled Seabass on his plate, to meet the eyes of his father, whose attention he had certainly caught. Gatsby had processed what he heard, only to continue to eat his food, simply nodding. The table continued eating in silence. After all, this was completely expected. The issue would arise if he hasn't made the cut for the Project. For a Lansdell, it was an obligation to excel, not an achievement.

"Nice job, bro! I see it took a while." The voice made Vincent's blood boil. "For someone like you, however, it's record time ~"

That was the obligatory cut-in from Simon Lansdell, Vincent's elder brother by a whopping ten months. Unlike Vincent and his father, Simon had piercing grey eyes, and silver highlights around his blonde hair. He truly stood out among the three siblings.

As obnoxious as his cut-ins during Vincent's every breath of life were, they were poultry to the sheer lack of reaction by Bill, the eldest of the three Lansdell siblings. He was twenty-three, and already a successful man in his own right, being the head of logistics at Silph Co. at his age. As much as people may have spread rumours, everyone who had worked alongside him could confirm that his position was, in fact, earned, and not created by his father. As for Simon? He was a prodigious writer, already having three published works and a young writer's award.

Vincent had been the last to notably achieve something.

All the Lansdell brothers were excellent at one field or the other. Information Tech was Bill's forté. Literature was Simon's, and Pokémon Battles were Vincent's. The thing that hampered Vincent was the years of experience he lacked, that Bill and his father possessed. The indifference resonating across the table was depressing to a certain degree. The boy's spirit was weary of this constant struggle.

And thus, the teenager's resolve was set in stone. He'd come out on top in battling. He had talent his elders lacked, and he would build on this.

His reminiscing session had allowed the approach of Harold from behind him.

"Yes, Harold?"

"Nothing, sir. I just came to wish you the best of luck." Harold was possibly the only one in the household who saw Vincent for what he was: a human being. The boy's cold exterior demeanour never allowed him to acknowledge this, but that didn't mean he didn't appreciate it. Harold was the moral support pillar of Vincent's life, and the reason he wasn't drowning in expectation.

"Thanks. Give father my regards when he returns."

The silence meant affirmation. That was how it worked.

Vincent opened the door, having slung the bag onto his shoulders, and then proceeded to tap his toes twice. The airwave jet propulsion in his shoes was set off, and he rocketed outwards, at speeds comparable to a competitive bike rider. He had practice with inline skates, and this wasn't all that different. He drifted freely through Viridian's streets, as he made his way towards Route 1. He took a glance at his wristwatch while on one of the straighter paths. _08:02. Perfect._

 **¶|• Cɑʆix**

"Argh! Get back here, you little shit!"

It was a Vegetable stall in Route 22 where a certain common prankster ran amok, his sparkling blue eyes exuding a mischievous charisma. The air swayed the young boy's bright auburn hair, messy as ever, not maintained. He was used to being called such names. Ruffian, hooligan, bastard, everything. Right now, him and his partner were running alongside one another, having deftly swiped an apple from the shop. The auburn haired teen found no troubles climbing a tree in his half sleeve brown shirt and beige shorts, with his belt brandished rather publicly by the vertical length of his shirt not really being that high. His hands grabbed the bark like it was a set of pebbles on a climbing wall, and he made it a point to drop a 50 Pokédollar coin on his pursuer, a shopkeeper. The apple cost 300 Pokédollars, which he dropped conveniently on his pursuing shopkeeper's head in fifties.

Chipper andagile, the Sneasel grinned while teasingly grunting at their pursuer. His partner was hopping across the set of trees parallel to him. Both were exerting minimal effort as they left the shopkeeper in the dust, with 600 Pokédollars for himself, dropped on his head. The two mischief makers were off with their individual apples.

"Well, Vex, I think we lost 'em ~"

The Dark-type nodded in agreement, and they both unanimously slowed their pace down. The clawed Weasel nimbly hopped to the branch its trainer was on. A robust tree they had picked indeed. Where his breast pocket would usually be, was a safety pin, holding up the Project Omega card, detailing the schedule for the day. His own name was signed on the card too, as an added bonus due to the way in which he received said card requiring such a formality. _Calix Foster._ The deal was to meet at the Pallet side entrance of Route 1, and the time of the day required a glance in the direction of the clock tower in Viridian city. _08:12. Meh, I've got time ~_

And he did take his time, choosing the acrobatic route on his way there. Calix was a tree hopping prankster, even at home. He lived in the local orphanage, attending school as per the place's private curriculum. The way he had reached this point was interesting indeed. He remembered getting the visitor mere days ago. It wasn't easy to forget a man like that, what with his Mr Perfect aura, and a gaze nobody could describe as anything other than an amber jackhammer, forcing the extra material out of the way to grind into the soul of anyone it set itself on.

"Name and occupation." The voice was stern, as though addressing a poor trembling boy on the witness stand with no regard for personal feelings. The man's glasses didn't do a thing to filter or dilute that soul-piercing gaze, which clashed horribly with the stereotype about blondes. This man was as smart as they came.

"C-Calix Foster! Resident puh... um… p-prankster and charmer!" A stuttering Calix was born every time the planets aligned, but the withering presence of the man sitting before him, across the desk, was probably enough to scare planets into aligning themselves instantly.

"How would you react if I told you that you're a special case of talent?"

"I'd look... look at you weird…?"

He gulped as he saw the man's eyes narrowing, a look begging for mercy dawning upon him. For the first time in his life, Calix felt the urge to apologise for habitual sass. He sighed to himself as the man seemed to disregard his answer, and instead, reiterated his question while pronouncing each syllable.

"How would you react, if I told you, that you were a special case of talent?"

"Urm… Ah- I'd ask, 'why me'… maybe… uhh… yeah-"

A look of disappointment seemed to spur some confidence from within Calix, possibly out of fear. For once, he was glad to be wearing the brown pants.

"Sir, yes sir! I'd happily accept the cuh... uhh, compliment! What talent are we talking, sir?"

"Pokémon talent, Mr Calix Foster."

"W-Well-"

"What are Pokémon to you?"

"Wh-What…?"

"Did I stutter, Mr Calix?"

"Vexen's a Pokémon!" The teen's fear threshold had popped. This meant he was going to spit words out faster than the RPM of a P-90.

"Vex is a good friend! A valuable partner! We do everything together! Swamping the floors, stealing! Yeah, I stole a Tomato, but I paid the guy, I swear! Pleasedon'tkillme please- IfyoudoJustdon'thurtVex! He's my only family! I'd take a bullet for him, and pleasepleaseplease stop looking at me that way-"

The prim figure slammed his palm on the table, cutting off the fear tangent Calix had conveniently gone off on. Deadpanned silence. Calix had never trembled like this before, but he figured there was a first time for everything. The next words were uttered by the man opposite to him.

"Good answer."

The chair dragged across the floor, as the man rose, before turning and walking away, leaving the table with nothing but a Card. He'd left it behind stealthily with the slam on the table. The big bold letters caught Calix's eyes: _Project Ωmega._ He didn't know what just happened, but apparently his interrogator was gone. He managed to let go of breath he didn't know at all that he was holding.

For now, things went smoothly, as the Trainer-Pokémon duo seamlessly made their way through the woods of the route, leaping from treetop to treetop, using branches like stepping stones, Calix certainly had all the makings of a Mankey-human hybrid. His Sneasel kept up with ease, as he approached the end of Route 1. By his approximation, it had been fifteen minutes. He supposed it was better to be slightly late than to not show up at all, little did he know about what awaited him there. The imp-like teenager could only wait before he beheld what was going to be one life-changing encounter.

 **¶|• Viɳcɛɳt**

The seconds felt like hours, whiling away as Vincent waited on. Every few seconds, he'd take a swift look at his wristwatch. _08:29… where the hell is everyone?!_ His teeth were grinding from the tension of waiting, as each second passing seemed like a jarring percussive blow of inactivity, something the rich boy hated. He wanted to get on with this stupid thing fast, because time was money, and time was all he had to prove himself. To shut up the folks back at home. Constant foot tapping in rhythmic fluency highlighted just how impatient this teen was.

At first, he assumed it was his imagination running amok, until it got louder. _Is that… clodding?_ It seemed strange at first, but then, he heard a pronounced neigh, followed by a pronounced thud which made his field of view jolt around, partly due to how startling the sound was. What he saw was strange. A girl, seemingly around his own age, mild and dressed like a simpleton, riding atop a Ponyta. He had to compliment the choice of steed.

"Excuse me, but have you seen a professor around here? I was told to meet him here-"

"You're here for Project Omega?"

Vincent's interjection seemed to catch the brunette before him by surprise. It was just as she slid off her Ponyta's back too. She seemed trim and athletic by build, and was a few inches below himself when she got off her flaming horse.

"Yeah."

She paused for a few minutes, tilting her head to the right as her deep black eyes met his striking sea green ones in what seemed to be a sparky, momentous instance of understanding. Something seemed to click between them both.

"Hmph… a commoner like you? Don't mess with me, lady." He scoffed at the teen before him, positively unamused by the prospect of working alongside her.

"Excuse me? I like to think I'm less common than a walking cliché for spoilt kids." She was quick to retort with the wit, something she had, but rarely pulled out. She brandished her satisfied smile with pride, as Vincent's face seemed to show mild dissatisfaction at the retort. He was used to getting a _'Yes sir, apologies'_ as an answer to every one of his grievances, so this was definitely new. He grumbled incoherent swears towards the side, before locking his gaze with hers once more.

"Listen, woman, I lack the time and patience to deal with your bull early in the morning. Just state your purpose."

She raised a perfect brow at his rather weak comeback. All things said and done, that was disappointing to the point of her feeling pity for the lad. She shrugged and decided it was best to just go along with it. What had she got to lose, beside the opportunity to put little shits like him in place?

"Amy Dalton. Nice to meet you too ~"

"Tone back the sarcasm, mongrel."

There were things people tended to put up with, and things that set them off. Being compared to a dog seemed to have caused Amy's face to scrunch up a wee bit.

"The hell is _your_ malfunction, rich boy? Missed your morning tea?"

"Pft, some uneducated lowlife couldn't even begin qualifying for malfunction scans on _me_ , so sit down."

"Uneducated? I qualified for the same program as yo-"

The leaves rustling overhead stopped the little back and forth feud from escalating into more violent dealings, as a profound _CRUNCH MUNCH CRUNCH_ that positively disgusted Vincent broke up the flow. Both the trainers lowered their rising anger to pay attention to the source of the disturbance. It was a rather distracting sound which reeked of juvenile delinquency.

Their eyes were set on the lad sitting and whiling his time away, watching the bout go down like a shameless sloth. In his hands, was a nearly devoured apple, ripe and red enough to be relished. His expression turned to that of questioning scrutiny when he saw both the sets of eyes fall on himself.

"Wphaht?" It was a muffled up word, thanks to his mouth being full of apple. The bits that fell out positively disgusted Vincent, and even Amy seemed to cringe a little at the sight.

"What?" He reiterated after swallowing, before sliding off his branch and landing easily on both feet. He was followed by his Sneasel, who nimbly leapt off the branch of another nearby tree. Both Pokémon and Trainer had the eyes of mischievous pranksters. He was slightly below Vincent in the height department, but that wasn't even noticeable. He actually looked taller when one compared their hair. The auburn headed boy's eyes twinkled, as he decided to make his approach friendly, despite ruining the first impression.

"Since you two are gonna play the silence game, allow me to introduce myself ~" He bowed with an almost pretentious level of finesse. "Calix Foster, at your whims and services ~ Unless said whims and services are stupid. Case in point, I'm just Calix Foster."

Something both Amy and Vincent would agree on pretty quickly: The boy had a mouth, and he had a big one at that.

"Now, would either of you ladies be so polite as to point me in the direction of a white coated professor like person? I was told to meet him here."

Vincent grew tired of this charade, mostly because he was quick to put two and two together. As much as it disgusted him, this was also another trainer for the Project. _Tch… standards are low as ever, I see…_ _A smart mouthed imbecile, and a walking embodiment of hooliganism…_ Truly, in his eyes, this couldn't get much worse.

"Why hello there!"

The voice was weary, clearly mature, yet gentle like the breeze of Pallet. The three turned to witness a grey-brown haired individual, beside his Pidgeot, standing there and viewing the group of three with his deep seated, dark eyes. He wore a white lab coat.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_

Hey there! If you've read up to this point, you have my sincere thanks and appreciation, and my hopes that you'll stick around to see how this story unfolds! As of now, the chapter releases will be on a bi-weekly basis, and the fic is already several chapters ahead of what I'm releasing, so I'm sorry about any major suggestions you may have had for the story ;_;

This does not mean that I am not open to criticisms, of course. The main point of writing is to receive and improve upon criticisms, after all, and the crafts are always subject to edits! Don't hesitate when dropping your blunt reviews, I appreciate each word you put the effort into typing! Just do try to keep this somewhat civil, though; if you think this chapter is shit, I'd appreciate if ya told me what you didn't like, and how I may perhaps fix its issues.

 _ **~ Ace**_


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